


no greater love than this

by LiveLaughLovex



Category: The Code (TV 2019)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Memorial Day, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25780192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLovex/pseuds/LiveLaughLovex
Summary: The Abraham family is intimately familiar with battlefield loss. Three generations of Abraham men gave their life in a foreign land, bleeding out in an unfamiliar field. It's sometimes hard for Abe to accept that not doing so himself doesn't make him any less of a hero.---Abe and Harper make plans to spend their first Memorial Day together.
Relationships: John "Abe" Abraham/Harper Li
Kudos: 5





	no greater love than this

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from John 15:13.

The day John Abraham told his mother he was going to Annapolis and coming out a Marine, he saw her cry for the first time since they’d put his father in the ground nearly two years earlier. She tried to hide it, of course. That was her way. But he still saw, and the guilt of that alone was almost enough to make him back down from the decision.

The Abraham family was intimately familiar with battlefield loss. His great-grandfather had died at Cantigny, seven weeks prior to the birth of his first and only son. That son – Abe’s grandfather – had died on a battlefield himself a few decades later, drawing his last breaths in the middle of a South Korean field in September 1950 after taking a bullet to the chest during the Battle of the Pusan Perimeter. And Russell Abraham… well, Abe didn’t think anyone was likely to forget the day his father had died. He’d been just shy of sixteen when it happened, but he still saw it every time he closed his eyes.

So, he didn’t blame his mother for her trepidation, or for wanting to keep him safe. She wasn’t wrong to worry, as was proven seven years later, when he came to in a German hospital with a hole the size of a softball in his thigh. It was enough to end his active-duty career in the Corps, and though the news mostly devastated him, a small part of him was grateful, because at least she’d not have to worry quite as much about him whenever he wasn’t in her line of sight.

The fact that he’d survived didn’t make up for all those who hadn’t, though, both from his own family and from countless others across the country. He was aware of that constantly, of course, but there were some days that reminded him of it more than others. One day in particular, actually, that came around once a year, at the end of May.

He usually spent Memorial Day alone, locked away in his apartment. He’d visit the graves of those he’d lost the next day, or the next week, but there was something about visiting them _then_ , when the place was so filled with others doing the same, that just cheapened the experience, somehow. He didn’t know if they were staring down from above at him every moment of every day, but if they were… well, those who hadn’t been family he’d loved like they were. He’d never want them to feel like an obligation.

-o-

“So, you don’t visit graves on Memorial Day,” Harper surmised, falling into step beside him as they made their way out to the car, and it was still so strange – in a good way – to see her by his side at the end of the day that he found himself unable to stop smiling as she tugged on the door handle of the still-locked car and then pulled away with a mildly irritated grimace, waiting for him to unlock it before trying again.

“No,” Abe confirmed, settling into the driver’s seat next to her and turning the key in the ignition. “Not usually. Do you?”

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I visited Dyer last year. Other than that, there’s not many people _for_ me to visit. I dropped by with flowers a few days ago. His younger sister – she asked if she could keep in touch, after all of it – she’s bringing her kids out tomorrow. They’re spending the day out there.”

“Nice.” Abe hesitated. “Do you have any other plans?”

“I do not,” she informed him, folding her hands atop her lap. “Do you?”

“I don’t usually leave the apartment,” he admitted quietly. “With my dad, and Double-D, and Jason, it’s just…”

“A lot of loss,” she finished for him, reaching over to gently squeeze the hand not presently resting on the wheel. “I can understand that. We should just… I don’t know, hide away. Ignore the rest of the world for a while. I mean, it is the weekend. We’re not on the clock, and we’re not on call.”

“No,” Abe agreed, only mildly surprised. “We’re not.”

“So, let’s do it. Let’s order in from that Thai place down the street…”

“The one the Health Department’s closed down three times in the past five years?” Abe interrupted pointedly.

Harper waved away his concerns. “They opened it back up, sweetheart, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

Abe wasn’t nearly as sure as she was, but he decided to let it slide in favor of hearing the rest of her plan.

“… _anyway_ , order in food, watch crappy television – or good television, if you want, but that’s sometimes a lot harder to find, especially considering how many good shows get replaced by another form of _The Bachelor_ …” Harper shook her head, as if personally offended by reality television’s existence, before continuing. “I’ll bake cookies or something the night before. We won’t eat a single healthy thing all day. It’ll be great.”

“Are you supporting my avoidance tendencies?” he asked mildly, amused by the prospect.

“I am absolutely supporting your avoidance tendencies. I know a healthy thing when I see it, sweetheart.”

“I think most people would disagree that it’s a healthy thing, Li,” he pointed out, smiling fondly as he glanced over at her.

She shrugged. “You’re not currently curled up in a ball on your living room floor, _Abraham_. Sometimes, being good enough to get out of bed in the morning is as good as you can ask for.”

He silently agreed with the assessment, squeezing her fingers gently between his own. “Can they be those cookies you made for Valentine’s Day?” he requested lightly, tapping lightly on the brake as they came to a red light.

She smiled. “Sure. I’ll even show you how to make them.”

“I thought it was your great-grandmother’s recipe and sharing it was a crime punishable by death,” Abe remarked, only half-joking. “What’s with the turnaround?”

“She said I could share it with you,” Harper assured him, flushing slightly as she spoke.

“Oh, she did?” Abe questioned teasingly. “And why’s that?”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. She just likes you, I guess.”

(It wasn’t until their wedding day eighteen months later that Abe learned Harper had been granted her great-grandmother’s permission after the ninety-three-year-old woman declared that _you’re enough in love with that boy that he’s family already._ If possible, Harper flushed even redder that day than she did when he’d asked the question.)

“Baking and terrible television,” Abe repeated, nodding once. “Sounds like a plan to me. Though, really, Harper, I don’t want to bring you down. If you want to go out to a barbeque with friends…”

“Abe,” she sighed, exasperated yet fond as she tilted her head to stare oh-so-softly at him, “when’re you going to realize I’d be fine with watching _paint_ dry if I did it with you?”

And if he’d been half in love with her since the moment he saw her, which he admitted to himself a while back, then those few words were enough to send him completely over the edge. “Okay, then,” he said after clearing his throat. “Baking and terrible television it is.”

(Two days later, he took Harper to visit his father’s grave, and his grandfather's. When they left, he couldn’t help but feel like two angels were smiling down approvingly upon them as they did. Looking over at her, he couldn't help but smile himself.) 


End file.
